Everything was wrong.

Sunglasses shielded Julia’s eyes as she sat in the back of the car Richard was driving her in. The trees and buildings off in the distance were nothing but a blur to her.

Julia felt . . . numb. Like her entire body, inside and out, had been doused in lidocaine. She didn’t even really remember putting her clothes on or where she found Richard. Julia hadn’t wasted time. She just had to get out, get away before she had a complete breakdown. She barely remembered hugging Livie goodbye. The woman had said something to her, but Julia hadn’t heard her.

All she could hear was Lucian telling her to leave.

All she could focus on was the heartache and anger as she’d torn up the check and left it on the bed. One day she would probably regret doing that, but she couldn’t take that money. It felt tainted and wrong somehow. The money had been used to keep her here in the beginning and now it was being used to send her away.

Everything was so wrong.

Pain sliced through her, causing her to suck in a sharp breath as she stared blindly out of the window.

You don’t belong here.

No four words could’ve hurt more.

She loved Lucian. As crazy as it was to even fall for him, she had. It had been scary from the moment she’d realized that she had developed feelings for him. She’d known then it had been risky. Their lives were nothing alike, and she’d struggled with the fear that she’d never fit in, but she’d trusted him—trusted that he’d never make her feel that way. In the end, it didn’t matter how many people turned their noses up at her or made her feel foolish in a fancy dress. As long as he was standing by her side, she wouldn’t have cared at all.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the burn of fresh tears. The numbness was fading, and what had happened was beginning to truly set in.

They’d been in the car for about thirty minutes, only halfway to the airport, and she hadn’t even begun to deal with everything that had happened to her in the last twenty-four hours.

And she knew Lucian hadn’t either.

Those damn tears snuck free, tracking down her cheeks. How was she going to go on after this, like none of this happened? How was Lucian supposed to go on?

A tremble coursed throughout her. She was leaving. She was doing what Lucian had asked, but leaving felt . . . it felt wrong. Not because it hurt and that kind of hurting was only just beginning, but because it felt like she . . . she’d given up.

That even though he had ordered her to leave, it was her giving up on him—her giving him control by giving in.

Had she’d done the right thing?

“Ms. Hughes, may I say something?”

The sound of Richard’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts. She dragged her gaze away from the window and looked up front. He hadn’t spoken this entire time. If he had, she hadn’t heard him.

She cleared her throat. “Sure.”

“I don’t know if Lucian ever told you this, but when he was little, he was the scapegoat.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “For his brothers and his sister—especially his sister. He would get between Lawrence and Madeline. He’d fight for her.”

Wiping the tears off her face, she let out a shaky breath. “He . . .” She trailed off as she shook her head. “He mentioned something like that.”

“Did he tell you that his brothers fought for him? That wouldn’t be a lie. They did for the most part, but not . . . not like he would for them. You don’t know how far he’s gone for his family. Even if you think you do, you don’t.”

Julia lowered her hands to her lap, her fingers curling into her palms. She knew some of what he’d done for his brothers, some of it frightening beyond belief, but she’d accepted the things that he’d done out of loyalty and a fierce protectiveness she knew she would’ve shown for her own family. Was there more?

With Lucian—with the de Vincent brothers—there was always more.

This wasn’t right.

Something . . . something powerful and sure was building inside her. Her hands opened and closed restlessly.

Richard’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror once more. “He’s never had anyone fight for him the way he has fought for others.”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

“I have to ask. Are you going to fight for him, Julia?”

Lucian stood in front of the closed door. Never in his life had he entered the room. Not when he was a child. Not as an adult. But now he stood in front of his father’s bedroom, the room his mother never even slept in.

He didn’t know why he came here, but he’d left Julia’s room and somehow this was where he found himself. Lucian reached for the knob. Unlocked, it slipped open and cold air rushed out as he stepped inside.

The room was sparse, and that had nothing to do with his death. No one had started to pack his shit up yet. It was just that his father, his actual God damn father, didn’t see the need for frivolous, inconsequential things. The man himself had been spare down to the very bone, with his attention and love.

Lucian stood before the bed—the only bed in the house that didn’t feature Gabe’s design. The bed was made, pillows flat at the top. To the right was a dresser. There was a TV mounted to the wall. And a chair. That was it.

Fucking empty of life.

Just like his father.

Maybe if Lawrence had been a better father, Maddie would’ve . . . she wouldn’t have turned out the way she had. Maybe if their dad had actually acted like he gave a shit about them, she wouldn’t have ended the way she did.

He was dying inside.

He’d lost his sister. He’d lost Julia.

Red-hot rage bled out of every pore. He wasn’t thinking as he stepped forward and gripped the edges of the blanket. Tearing the blanket and sheets free, he ripped them from the bed, throwing them to the floor.

Spinning around, he stalked over to the TV. He grabbed hold of the screen and pulled. Muscles along his arm and back flexed and tightened as the mount caught on bolts. Fury was a powerful drug. Drywall plumed into the air as the mount gave way, ripping the bolts straight out.

Lucian threw the TV to the floor, molars grinding down as the screen cracked, then shattered.

The chair went next, into the wall beside it. The hole that broke through did nothing—absolutely nothing to stop the rage. He stalked over to the dresser.

Grabbing a wooden box, he flung it off the dresser. Rings flew across the room, skating off the floor. Cigars rolled. A watch fell against the stripped bed. Not the one his father always wore. A different one Lucian’s mother had given him for Christmas one year. His bastard of a father never wore it, though. The fucking tag was still on it, over a decade later.

He turned back to the dresser, to the neat stack of books and the bottles of cologne. Swiping his arm across the top, he swept off the books and bottles. The crashing and breaking of glass did nothing to temper his rage.

The overpowering scent of pine filled the room as he grabbed the dresser and toppled it over. Dressers fell out, smashing against the floor. He stepped back, body trembling and breathing heavy. He wanted to tear the room down to the studs, eradicate every piece of his father.

“Lucian.”

Every muscle in his body locked up as he closed his eyes. Shit. Now he was hearing Julia’s voice. Had he lost his damn mind? Would make sense, all things considered.

“Lucian.” Julia’s voice came again. “Please.”

A series of goose bumps rose over his damn skin. His hands opened and closed at his sides and then slowly, he turned around.

Julia stood in front of the doorway, her hair falling in loose waves around her pale, stricken face. It was really her. She was flesh and blood.

His chest rose and fell deeply. She shouldn’t be here. God, she should be far away from him. Hadn’t he told her to leave?

Her throat worked on a visible swallow as she stepped forward, stopping when he tensed. “What are you doing?”

“Redecorating,” he rasped out. “Like my design?”

Julia winced as those gorgeous warm eyes glistened. “Oh Lucian.”

“Don’t.” He held up a hand. “I told you to leave. Why are you here?”

He expected her to flinch, for that beautiful face to pale even further, but that’s not what happened. That slightly pointy chin of hers lifted and her shoulders squared like they’d done a hundred times before, usually minutes before she put him in his place.

“I’m here,” she said. “I’m here, because I love you.”

It was Lucian who flinched. He stumbled back a step. “Don’t—”

“No.” Her voice was like a crack of thunder in the middle of a summer storm. “You’re going to shut up and you’re going to listen to me.”

Lucian blinked. Surprise rendered him quiet.

“I cannot even imagine what you’re going through and what you’re feeling. The last twenty-four hours have completely changed your life—changed everything you knew, but they haven’t changed who you are.”

A harsh laugh burst from him. “I know exactly who I am.”

“I don’t think you do.” She took another step forward. “I don’t think you know at all.”

Jaw working, he looked away. “You only know the half of what I’ve done—”

“I know enough to know that you’re the man I love.” She cut him off with words that were like a knife to the chest. “I know that you’re fiercely loyal and protective. I know that you’re amazingly talented and generous. I know that you’re smart and you’re funny. I know that I can’t even stay mad at you even when you’re annoying the hell out of me. I know—”

“You know that I’m bad for you?” His voice hoarse.

She shook her head. “You’re not.”

“Baby, you don’t understand. This fucking house, this fucking family is going to ruin you just like it rots everyone.”

“That’s not true. I know it’s not,” she insisted. “Because it didn’t ruin you. It didn’t rot you.”

God, those words ripped his chest right open, because he wanted to believe them so badly. He wanted them to be true.

Julia stopped a few feet from him, standing beside the pile of sheets and blankets. “You can get mad at me. You can tell me to leave, but I’m not going to.”

His breath—his actual breath—fucking caught in his throat.

Her hands balled into tiny fists. “I accept what you are—I know you’re fucked up. I know your entire family is messed up, and I accept all those broken pieces. I can handle your real. I can handle you.”

He stilled. Fuck. He wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. Those words broke through the haze of anger and pain.

“I love you,” she continued, holding his gaze. “And because I love you, I’m not going to give up on you—on us. I’m going to fight for you. So get used to it. I’m yours. You’re mine.”

Lucian broke.

He didn’t know what part of what she said did it. Maybe it was all of it. Maybe it was the fact that she came back, she was standing here in front of him, fighting for him—for them, when no one in his entire life had truly ever done that for him.

Whatever the reason was, it didn’t matter.

Julia was his.

And he was hers.

Lucian sprang forward, closing the distance between them. He grasped her cheeks as his mouth came down. “God, Julia. I’m sorry. I love you. I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s okay,” she said, grabbing a hold of his shoulders. “I love you, Lucian. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m going to be here. We’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t deserve you, but fuck, I love you.” His lips slammed down on hers. He tried to be gentle, to slow it down. He tried to hold back, but he was broken wide open.

Words he’d never spoken spilled out of him. He told her how he felt when he came into this room, how torn apart he was over his sister. He spoke to her about his fears of ruining her. He did this all between kisses, between unhooking the button on his jeans and undoing the zipper. He told her how it killed him to send her away as he gripped the stretchy black pants she wore, tugging them and her panties down, helping her step out of them. Lucian told her over and over that he loved her as he took her to the floor of his father’s bedroom, parting her thighs and thrusting in so deep, so hard, it was like he was trying to fuse them together.

Julia clutched at him as things spiraled madly out of control. Her legs were wrapped around his plummeting hips, one of her hands digging at his hair and the other holding on to his arm. She anchored herself to him as his body pounded into hers, and she took it—took him, furiously whispering against his mouth her love, her forgiveness that he didn’t deserve but he would damn well honor for the rest of his life.

And that was what he’d do. He’d honor Julia. He’d cherish her like the fucking light in his life that she was, and nothing—not his family, not him—would ever come between them again.

This was them.

This was forever.

His hand slammed into the floor beside her as she cried out, her body spasming tightly, clenching him. Release powered down his spine and he lost all sense of himself. Sweat beaded and dripped off him. The sound of her wetness, of their lovemaking filled the room. Their mouths clashed together and he tasted the salt of her tears—of their tears, because fuck, he might’ve been crying.

He might’ve been redeemed right there.

Lucian came brutally, her name a ragged and rough burst of air from his lips. His weight came down on her. He tried to stop it, but couldn’t, and in the end, he realized it was okay, because she could handle him—she was handling him.

Panting, he dragged his sweat-slick forehead over hers. Her body twitched around him, her breathing fast and shallow. For several moments neither of them spoke. They just held each other, their bodies still connected, their hearts slowing down.

It was Julia who broke the silence. “I think we might’ve broken some floorboards.”

He chuckled hoarsely as he eased out of her and shifted so that most of his weight was on his side, on the floor. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she whispered. “But I don’t think I’m moving anytime soon.”

“Neither am I.” His gaze traveled down her length, over her rucked-up shirt, bare lower half and her glistening thighs. “Ms. Hughes,” he murmured, lifting his gaze to her. “I’ve made a mess of you.”

Her cheeks flushed such a pretty pink. “You’re terrible.”

“I am. Really, I am.” Serious now, he smoothed his hand over her cheek. “I’m sorry. I should’ve never sent you away—said those things. You belong here. You’ve always belonged with me.”

“Stop. I know. It’s okay.” She clasped his jaw in her hands. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You’re going to be okay—”

“We’re going to be okay.” He dropped his forehead to hers again. They needed to get off the floor and go somewhere that wasn’t filled with a lifetime of bad memories. An idea occurred to him just like that and immediately it was all that he wanted.

Lucian lifted his head. “We’re going to move.”

Her brows knitted as she stared up at him. “What?”

“We’re going to move out. We’re going to find a new place—maybe in the city. You’d like that, I think.” He nodded. Nothing felt more right. “We’re not going to stay here.”

“Maybe ask me if I want to move in with you?” she said, clearly teasing.

“You came back. You’re kind of stuck with me now.” He pecked a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. “But seriously. I don’t want to stay here. Not anymore. We’ll take our time. Find the perfect place, but we aren’t going to live here.”

She slid her hand to his chest. “I think that’s a brilliant idea.”

It was. “Fuck this house.”

A small smile formed on her lips. “Screw this house.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, searching her eyes.

The smile on her face grew. “I mean, besides the obvious, it would be great to live somewhere where I don’t have to worry about being pushed down the stairs by vengeful ghosts or the house mysteriously burning down all around me while I’m sleeping. So I’m totally down with all of that.”

“We’ll make sure the next place isn’t haunted.”

Julia laughed as she folded her arms around him, holding him tight to her, and that laugh went a long way to chasing out some of the darkness crowding his soul, his heart. It was just a laugh, and he already felt a little lighter, a little brighter.

Lucian kissed her, pouring everything he felt for her into the kiss as his hand slid up, fingers curling into hair. Julia was right. So was he.

He was going to be okay.

And they were going to be more than okay.

As long as they were together.